Hellbound
by Lawley M
Summary: A sickeningly dark tale set after the end of One Piece
1. Ocean Blues

Hellbound

Session I

Ocean Blues

((Before I even start typing, I must inform you of something, my humble audience. This is **not** a happy tale. It is not about a young happy-go-lucky Pirate searching for the second version of One Piece. This is not about Zoro confessing that he secretly loves Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way. This story might be set in One Piece, but don't expect many happy moments beyond the first part of this very first chapter. You have been warned. It is set in an alternate universe, due to nobody except Oda knowing how the real story is going to end. Needless to say, things didn't go well for anybody there, either. You have been warned...))

A rather large ship rolled on through a clear, pristine ocean. A slight breeze blew in the wind. The calm before the storm. Along the side of the ship, in large Italic letters read _The Spirit of Radio_, the name of the ship. The mood above it was apprehensive for all but six of the people on board the stolen, renamed Man-O-War. These six were the main people in what had turned into a crew of 'Pirates', named as such only because no other word quite fitted that band of misfits. These six people had inadvertently started a revolution. Not for personal gain, not for glory or for profit. It had been started because their reluctant leader had caused tensions that had been sitting at a boiling point between the government and it's citizens to finally spew into small-scale conflicts. None of them cared about that...this was the day they had each been waiting for since they had met their leader. Since they had met Musashi Kuros. The lad himself, yes lad, was a boy of only fifteen, yet one look at his draconic, deep-set eyes would make someone mistake him for a man much older, though not for his height. He was the shortest person on the ship, standing only an inch above an even five feet. Around his waist were two gunbelts, each holding rounds of ammunition and two revolvers, the last two ever made by a master gunsmith from a far away land. Not only that, they were dear to him, dear beyond words. He was dressed in a black, open jacket with a white button-up shirt underneath it, with matching pants. Over that he wore a bandolier, filled to the brim with Ammunition for a bolt-action rifle on his back. Musashi walked the deck of the ship, checking what members of his 'crew' were doing. Some were getting ready for battle, adjusting the cannons, cleaning rifles, that sort of thing. Others were eating, drinking in silence. It was when he was around the front of his ship that he was ambushed by the other five 'important' members of his crew, all alongside one another, directly opposite him.

"The fuck do you misfits want?" he said. There was no malice or spite in his tone anymore, just his usual greetings.

The five looked around at each other, before the second-largest of them said "So...who wants to go first?" he had a broad, square face and short black hair. Muscles lined his body beneath lightweight armor, with a _massive_ sword hanging from his back in a loose sheath. "Nobody? Well geez, fine give us some privacy for a bit." he said, taking a flask from under a red cloak and taking a gulp of the liquor inside. The others backed off for a bit, each thinking out what they were going to say. As for the large fellow, he said "Well, looks like this is it."

"If that sorry motherfucker doesn't pull anymore tricks out of his ass, yeah it is." Musashi said. This man had been his closest friend from the moment they stopped trying to kill one another, and like most men they had trouble putting their feelings into words.

"Look, I'll keep this short because we both know I'm not the best with words. You helped me out when you had absolutely no reason too. You saved me from a life of guarding movie sets and gave me a reason to fight for once. But most of all...you're the best friend I've ever had Musashi, so do me a favor and make sure to leave the bar intact when you're done fighting that bastard and his armada. I hear Fighter's Isle has some tasty booze." he said, his voice deep, the words coming out slowly. He wasn't unintelligent, but he was more of a man of action than a talker. He walked off, and the **largest **member of the crew floated, yes, floated over to Musashi.

Beneath a large, hooded black cloak that covered his entire face was a skull, and at the bottom of that cloak was what appeared to be the end of a spine. On his back was a perpetually still scythe. One could call him a floating Grim Reaper...because that's exactly what he was. "This's it boss." he said in what sounded like what we of our world would call a New York accent, "The final curtain. The last fifteen minutes of _Die Hard!_ The last hour of Dragon Age. If you can kill Drak'Hul by making him fall off of the roof of the tallest building in Las Angeles via Rolex watch, I'll get you on the express line into heaven when you finally bite the bucket. Do get out there. And Don't. Fear. The. Reaper!" he said, breaking the fourth wall and making movie references left and right like a badass. "And SAVE SOME FOR ME! WHEN WE'RE DONE WITH HIS FLEET, I WANNA HAVE SOME FUN TOO!" the reaper screamed whilst floating away.

"I swear Diamond...if you ever start making fucking sense then I'll be able to make fun of you properly." Musashi said, a rare smile crossing his face. He never looked crazier than when he smiled. He put his hands in his pockets as the third member of his ensemble stepped forward, a woman, prematurely grey. She was in her mid forties, although Musashi had never found out her exact age. One of her arms was completely barren of protection, a long red tattoo running down her arm to her fingers. Her sword arm. The other arm was garbed in an iron plating that was laced on, light leather underneath that. It ran the length of her right arm, up to her shoulders, both of which were protected by shoulderplates, stopping just short of the start of her swordarm.

"My boy," the woman began to say, her voice befitting a grandmother more than a swordswoman, "I asked you once when I agreed to join your crew, and now I will ask again, Why do you wish to confront Gol Drak'Hul?" she asked, giving him a chance to speak for once.

For once, Musashi thought long and carefully about his words, and he could see that the others were listening. He closed his eyes, drawing in breath and exhaling slowly. "Once I would have said revenge...but it is not revenge that drives me any longer." he said, and that was that. "In other words...wait a little bit and you'll get to hear me tell **him**, Arianna."

The old woman smiled, patting Musashi on the shoulder. He could see all the scars from her numerous battles, old vendettas much like his and simple challenges over honor. He was a vagabond, a cutthroat, a thief, but she...she was a warrior, and he counted her amongst the most formidable of his crew. "Out of the many people I have fought alongside, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that it is you I am most proud to stand with. Go fight your battle...and do check to make sure your socks are clean." she added with a wag, before walking off to join Diamond and Trias.

There were only two more people left that wanted to speak with him...Richard and _her_. Richard came first, luckily, striding over with his refined walk. He wasn't high and mighty, if anything, the only person on the crew who fought dirtier would be Musashi himself. His usual walking cane was tucked neatly under his arm. "Kuros, Kuros, Kuros...who ever thought that we'd end up here, fighting Gol Drak'Hul together? The mobster and the misfit. Your plan is utterly crazy...and that's what I like about it. The only thing I _don't_ like is the whole you and me versus Drak'Hul part. But we can work that out later. There'd better be some profit in this, dammit. But right now I think Miss Ricketts would like a word with you, and I don't want to be in the way when cupid shoots the final arrow." Richard said, before turning away and walking to another corner of the deck, sitting and waiting for the show that was about to start.

And there _she_ was, Eva Ricketts, a girl about two years older than Musashi, and many, many times smarter than most of the rest of the crew put together. She stood around five four, taller than Musashi by three inches, and stopped in front of him. She pushed her long, bushy brown hair out of her face, saying "So...this is it,"

"Guess it is, Eva." Musashi responded, both of them moving slightly closer to one another.

"Well then, I just want to say something before you and Richard head out."

"Alright..."  
"Well...look...I...I know what happened, between you and Gol Drak'Hul. I know you always try and act like you're every bit as bad as him, if not worse. I know you try and act cruel to us, yet you're always saving us when otherwise we'd have suffered horrible fates. _I'd_ be dead without you, Musashi...I think I understand what it is that makes you better than him. What makes you a better person...a better man than him. You have a heart, and even though you don't like people to notice it, there is a lot of good in you. You are our captain..._my_ Captain. You've led us through countless trials, and I feel happiest when close to you. If you die today...that is to say...you stop living...if your heart stops beating..."

"I fuckin' know what dying means." they were a foot from one another.

Eva put her hand on his cheeks, grabbing them softly with her palm. "Don't say that word."

And then, just like that, they rushed that last foot, into a tight embrace, kissing. They spent what seemed like hours in each other's arms, although in reality not two minutes had passed. Two perfect minutes. Trias coughed loudly, causing them to break apart quickly. "I hate to break up you two lovebird's first kiss, but we have an island to save." Trias said, clearly enjoying getting to say that. Diamond groaned, passing Richard a large sack of money behind him. But it wasn't just Trias, Eva, Arianna, Richard, and Diamond anymore. It was the whole, two-hundred man crew, assembled in front of Musashi.

"O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!" they all screamed in unison. Former knights, gunslingers, former marines, Shell Town refugees and more were aboard _The Spirit of Radio_, all saluting Musashi.

Eva and the others gave Musashi a meaningful look, as Richard moved to the front of the boat alongside Musashi. The two turned back, facing the assembled crew. "The fuck you cocksuckers looking at?" he asked, before both he and Richard turned, jumping down off of the board. Some of the newer members gasped, but those that had been there for quite a while knew what was coming next.

A great Dragon jumped up, the wind caused by it's wings causing the boat to rock. Many people had to grab onto something to steady themselves. The brilliant creature rose high into the air, but only one person was upon it's back: Richard. Musashi's zoan was amazing indeed, and he roared to the heavens before setting his sights on the island where his nemesis lay in wait...the battle had begun.

**Three Years Earlier,**

**Akebono Island**

"Kuros...KUROS!" a voice called out, jarring a sleeping Musashi from his slumber. He was twelve then, his hair not nearly as long as that of his fifteen year old self. He was in the middle of his History class, one of those that he enjoyed least of all. Really he disliked all schoolwork, as all children do.

He looked up, trying to read what was written on the school's new blackboard. They had only gotten it the previous week from a passing merchant-ship, which had made the teachers most excited, "Yeah, what d'you want?" he asked, always the angriest when he was jarred from sleep. He was having a most excellent daydream involving himself being an Admiral of the marines, defeating Pirate uprisings on the Grand Line and in the other blues. Anything to get off of boring old Akebono.

"What I want, Mister Kuros, is for you to tell us exactly why it is that they call our current era 'The Chain Age'"

"Oh not this again," Musashi said, not really wanting to repeat what he already knew, "They call this the chain age because around sixteen years ago, the World Government finally grew smart enough to realize that they needed large numbers to take down the old Pirate Lords. Soo for every one of them that was killed, twenty-thousand marines died, but with great effort the marines slowly started working their way down the log paths, executing every Pirate that they saw. With great difficulty, they finally managed to clean the Grand Line of Pirates..."

"And who, class," asked the teacher, "can name me the one pirate that is currently active in the West Blue?" he asked, moving on from Musashi without so much as a compliment.

"Isn't it...Gol Dragul?" one of the girls near the back said

"Gol _Drak'Hul_, Miss Eberts, but close enough. Gol Drak'Hul has been on the loose for three years now, terrorizing this sea whilst taking advantages of unrest in the New World itself. He currently holds a bounty of 75 MILLION bellis...one of the largest ever issued in this sea."

"Well why hasn't anybody tracked his ass down?" Musashi asked, sparking a murmur of laughter at the cursing.

"Because, Kuros, nobody has ever been able to find the location of his base, and fighting him out in the open is nigh suicidal. If he ever sets his eyes on an island...it's already too late most of the time

**One Year Later...**

There Musashi sat in the ruins of that same schoolhouse, broken and bloody, the building on fire around him. "Comon, comon you old bastard. Wake up!" he screamed, shaking the limp body of the schoolteacher.

"He's dead child...and you'll soon join him."

**And One Week Before That...**

Musashi found himself surrounded, not by a mysterious lackies and a disembodied voice, but by four boys his own age. "Comon, comon you useless shits, I can't practice countering unless you _attack"_ he said, with a fierceness in his eyes. In his left hand he held a gun, a perfect replica of a real revolver, but sadly just an airsoft one. In his primary hand he held a wooden Katana, perfect for training. One of the boys looked absolutely terrified, one just looked at him with amusement, and two of them, well, two of them both wanted to and possessed the ability to kick his ass until it shined red as an Indian Sunburn. They both moved simultaneously, going to opposite sides in an attempt to confuse him and make an opening for themselves. Musashi leaned down low, launching himself forward and firing a bullet out of his left hand, from an airgun of course. It hit the poor fellow directly in the chest, knocking his breath away but otherwise unefecting him. Our pint-sized katana/gunslinger did an upward cut on the other one's chin, which would have slashed his head in two if that had been a real sword. Instead, it just gave him a bruise and served to piss him off. The one that looked afraid stepped forward, holding his wooden sword with shaking hands. Musashi stood himself straight up, walking towards the boy who was taller than he. They looked at one another, one with amusement, the other with fear. "BOO!" Musashi screamed, sending the boy running for the hills. However...this left him open to the other three, including the amused boy. Musashi found himself being beaten into submission by the three, who were all screaming the same thing.

"Say Uncle! SAY UNCLE!"

"SCREW YOU!" he screamed, his voice thick with an Akebonian(Russian so to speak) accent.

It was then that something rather odd happened. Three rocks were thrown into the air, hitting all three boys in the back of the head. They all screamed, looking around for who did that. "Oh whatever...we're done training for the day Musashi. Enjoy your bruises." one of the formidable ones said as they all tottered off.

"And what on Earth would your mother say if she saw you now?" a voice asked from behind, familiar although the accent wasn't Akebonian. We'd know it as English. Musashi looked up, seeing his father standing there were a stern, yet friendly, look on his face. His father was a formidable man himself, although he only stood around two inches shy of six feet. The people of Akebono knew him as Dr. Kuros. Musashi knew him as dad. Dr. Kuros helped Musashi to his feet, motioning for his son to walk with him.

"She'd say I shouldn't be messing around with wooden katanas and airsoft guns with older boys." he said, like he'd heard that talk a million times.

"Exactly so. I didn't buy you those so you could get beaten trying to invent a new fighting style. The world is a big place. You'll have time for as much fighting as you want when you're all grown up." he said, patting his son, who was still holding his toy weapons.

"But the Admirals, they didn't get to where they were by fighting with some conventional fighting styles. Those'd be too easy to read by up and coming Pirates!" Musashi said, making a good point.

"Keep in mind son, the last three sets of Admirals have all had Logias. And the only way you'd get me to go up against a logia would be if one's user was threatening your life."

"Well, I still want to be grown up so I can have my shot." he said with a pout.

"Son," his father began, crouching down and looking at him directly in the eye, "I said it not a minute ago and I'll say it again now. The world is a big place, and being grown up is not as nearly as much fun as it looks. Enjoy your childhood while it lasts...I won't be around to hold your hand forever." Dr. Kuros finished. That last part...there was a great deal of sadness in the way his Father said that part.

**Eight days later...**

"NO!" Musashi screamed, his voice bloodcurdling, full of anguish and despair. "WHAT. THE. HELL?" he screamed, digging his hands into the dirt. Around him was nothing but ruins of what was once homes, familiar homes. He curled up into a ball, unable to think coherently. He was utterly alone in the world, with nowhere to go and only the bleakness of reality that reared it's ugly head whenever he opened his eyes and the feeling of blood gushing from his wounds that kept him from thinking it was all just a horrible dream.

"Dear lord! There's someone alive! A boy!" someone said...a familiar voice. The last thing Musashi saw before slipping into unconsciousness was a merchant from one of those ships running towards him with others closely following. Now, many things in this first chapter of the tale of Musashi Kuros and his hellbound friends might seem incoherent, hard to understand, but know this, dear reader, the longer you follow his tale, the more sense this will make. But as Nietzsche so famously said "As you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you..."

To be continued...

Notes:

I like to give everyone a voice, so the major cast of characters all have a voice I associate with a major voice actor/celebrity...no not Justin Bieber you faggots.

So far we have...

Musashi Kuros: Roman Varshavsky

Eva Ricketsts: Emma Watson

Diamond: Nathan Vetterlein

Trias: Marc Diraison

Richard: Currently unknown

Arriana: Susan Boyd Joyce

Dr. Kuros: Liam Neeson

Mysterious Voice: Steven Blum


	2. NoName Jane

Session II

No-Name Jane

"What the hell was THAT all about?" A woman asked, a woman wearing the robes of a high-ranking marine, colored black. Her hair was of a matching color, raven black, and her face suggested a sort of fierce beauty. She appeared to be in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties. There was still youth in her face, yet the realizations that come with age were slowly starting to set in, and with them, lines.

"Oh of course _you_ wouldn't get it, woman." a voice, filled with the very snarkiest of snark, said. It was Richard...only not Richard as he was introduced just prior to Musashi's raid on Fighter's Isle. This Richard was much older...appearing in his late sixties. "I suggest you understand what the hell I'm trying to say, for you paid me enough for just one telling of Kuros's story...I won't repeat myself." he said. He wasn't in prison. He was in...a villa, calmly talking to an agent of the marines.

The woman looked at him with eyes that were filled with a sort of...frustration. She wanted answers. She _needed_ answers. This Green-haired devil was proving to be no help, with jumbled up tellings of parts of the tale of the boy she so desperately sought to understand. "How in the world did you know things that personal? What his schoolteacher told him? Of the event that set him off?"

"Well, my dear," Richard began, standing up, "I have Green hair."  
"That make's no sense."

"Neither do half of your marine's policies, but I'm not here to discuss ethics."

"...just tell me what I need to know. You were his friend, weren't you?"

"Friend?" Richard asked, looking at her with honest confusion. "Friend...would be pushing it. I have only one desire in life, woman...Money. And the more money I can get, the happier I am. You know how a jeweler appraises jewelry? He looks over every fine detail, working out exactly how much it was worth? Well...Kuros was like a goddamn diamond. Death and misfortune followed him like puppies nipping at the heels of their master, and with them, _profit._ He was profitable until the very end."  
The marine woman listened intently to that, absorbing every sentence and pondering it. "So you're saying he was simply an ends to a means to you?"  
"Indeed, Indeed...but as far as possible crewmates go...he wasn't bad at all."

"Just do me a favor, will you? Pick a spot to begin and go from there...I think I'll get a headache if we continue like that, jumping from one place to the next."  
"Fine, fine...allow me to..._begin_ with a tale I heard from a source completely unrelated to Kuros, but after I met the fellow, it became obvious who the 'hero' of it was. It all began, when he was about fourteen, on some island with a needlessly complex Japanese name in the West Blue..."

The scene seemed to shift to just that, as the night sky hung in the air above an open window like Christmas ornaments, the moon some round bauble. Musashi sat in that window, staring out at the streets below. He wasn't sleepy in the slightest. Indeed, he was waiting on someone...an informant. The deeper he delved into the inner machinations of Gol Drak'Hul's crew, the more he came to realize something...to keep the marines off of his track, he had only a few permanent crewmembers. The others were simply 'conscripts', who served with him anywhere from six months to five years. There were quite a few conscripts that Musashi had a score to settle with...and one was living nearby. He paid informants for their location, they got quite a nice bit of money out of the deal, and everyone was happy. That particular night, he was lazily waiting for his informant to come, when he heard a ruckus a few apartments over.

At first, he thought it was merely a couple's fight, for he heard a man shouting and a woman's screams. He didn't go to help. However, he became slightly more interested as he heard more men come into the room. It wasn't an argument...it was a rape. "Suck's to be her." he said, looking down and closing his eyes, as if to try and ignore the rape that was occurring a few doors over. It wasn't his problem...and if he wandered off, he'd probably miss the opportunity to speak to his informant...and that would mean a headache for him. But, something happened then, something Musashi didn't expect. He heard the scream of a child, a young boy by the sounds of it. This...got a reaction from him, to say the least. He was drawn to stand him, his reptilian eyes peering forward, always forward. A hand reached for one of his guns, holding it up as he made his way towards the sound of the noise.

He slowly started being able to make out the different voices and what they were saying...it was not pleasant.

"Hmm...looks like the woman had a kid. What should we do with him?"  
"Let's rape him too! I hear children are quite tight."  
"No you idiot, that'd make us faggots. We may be rapists but we're still better than fags."  
"No, no...I know what we need to do..." and they all went silent for a minute. "Hey kid...have a piece of your mom."

Perhaps it was the sheer horror of what he just heard, but Musashi's eyes widened, some amount of rage causing him to speed up.

"W-what...?" the child said. He couldn't have been older than ten.

"I said...take this, stick it in your mom...or we'll _kill you!_"

"B-but..."  
"Do it easily kid...we were going to burn you alive when this was do-"  
"**Like **_**fuck**_** you will.**" Musashi's voice boomed as he kicked in the door, his guns at the ready.

He fired off one shot, killing one of the thugs. There were three others, and they were all at a loss for words. Within the next few seconds, he shot all three of those other men's primary hands off. If his gun had been of a lower caliber, perhaps it would've only effected one finger...but .44 magnums aren't known for their subtlety. He walked in, looking at them. All three of the ones that were alive were clutching the stumps that once lead to hands. Their faces cringed in pain, their clothes all torn, all over the place. One of them managed to work up the courage to speak. "Our...our boss'll get you. Y'know who we work for?"  
"I don't give a fuck what your day job is...I'll just kill your boss too if I stay on this shitty island long enough to meet him."  
"You'll regret this."  
"Oh yes, I'll certainly regret shooting some thugs that wanted to rape someone's childhood...literally."

"We...we deserve a trial! A jury of our peers! Hand us over to the marines, man!" the last one said, trying to bargain.

"Oh really, fuckface?" Musashi asked, something of a smile crossing his face. He drew his Katana, stabbing it through one of their foreheads. Dead almost instantly. "I _am_ the judge." he bellowed, before turning around and lightly slashing another of the thugs across the middle, causing his intestines to spill out, "I _am_ the jury." and he dropped his Katana, holding his revolver with both hands for once. He fired three shots into the abdomen of the third man, the bargainer, "And just for you, I'm the _goddamn executioner_!" he screamed, before shooting him in the head. There was almost nothing left of that, either.

Musashi turned to look at the Mother and her Child. Without saying a word, he picked both of them up, putting them over his shoulder. Around ten minutes later, they found themselves outside of a hospital, with money in the mother's hands to cover expenses, all the money Musashi was going to pay the informant. He turned to walk away, but right as he shot his gun into the air to cause people to see what the commotion was, he heard the child ask a question. "Mister...why'd you save me and my Mommy? I think...I think you're a good person for doing that."

Our hero turned to look at the child, with an uncertain expression on his face. "I'm not. I did what I did for some idiot kid I knew a long time ago. When everything he cared about was torn from him...nobody was there to help him. I helped you 'cause I think it's what he would've wanted." and right as people started to appear, doctors and civilians, the child turned away for a moment, and when he looked back at where Musashi had been, he was gone. Off in the distance, what seemed like a winged man was flying.

End


	3. Bourée

Session III

Bourée

"That's great and all," Richard's marine interrogator began, "but what does that have to do with _anything?" _she asked, a little bit agitated at some random story involving rape. She was quite right, it was random, out of nowhere, it completely broke pace from the beginning of Richard's tale.

"It seem's I was right when I assumed the marine's investigators were dumb...how I ran a mob under their very nose for years." he responded, a bit of a sneer in his voice. "You don't seem to get it...to understand Kuros, you have to understand the underlying features of his personality. He didn't give a shit about people most of the time...but if someone _really_ needed his help...he'd help them...reluctantly."

"So how did you meet him?" she asked, trying to bring the conversation back around to what she was interested in.

"Well, it's quite simple, actually..."

In the years since Monkey D. Luffy was executed, the Sea Train had become much more common. Train tracks were laid atop the open sea, stretching, not just from the grand line, but to nearly every corner of the world. The Blue seas were finally connected via Sea Train, tunnels being dug through Reverse Mountain so that anyone could travel between the seas at their leisure. That day, Musashi found himself traveling to the North Blue, the air getting colder and colder outside his lowered window. For some odd reason, the ticketmaster didn't even mention his weapons when he purchased his ticket...perhaps they welcomed the extra hand incase something happened. He leaned against the window, his draconic eyes drooping, as if he was about to fall asleep. "I suppose nobody's sitting next to you because of your shining personality." a voice said. Musashi looked up and saw none other than Richard, sitting next to him.

"No, it's because I don't like motherfucking green haired faggots sitting next to me." was Musashi's response, his accented voice filled with biting hostility, as per usual.

"Richard's the name."

"Musashi Kuros."  
"I like money"

"I like killing things."

"Hey...our hobbies lead into each other."

"Fucking A, they do."  
"Let's be fri-"

"Bullshit...I have records indicating that your meeting with Musashi Kuros wasn't nearly as mundane as that."

A chuckle escaped Richard's sly lips as he looked up at her, his legs crossed. His hands were grasping a cane firmly, twirling it as he looked up at the woman. He was appraising her, seeing just how much of the story she was worth, even _if_ he was being paid to tell it. After what seemed like an eternity, he said "Well you're no fun..."

Takeo Makeo had always dreamed about one thing. He had always dreamed about becoming the Pirate King, about assembling a crew and having them sail all over the world. He wanted his Nakama...he wanted his Nakama a little too much. He set out from his Island, the Isle of Milk, with a smile perked onto his idyllic cheeks, as always, with the sun in his heart. A fedora made of Spandex was on his head, a gift from an old friend whose death he didn't seem to really dwell on nor care about, except as an excuse to set sail on this quest that would surely end well for him and his future Nakama! His little boat rocked under the Seatrain tracks, he humming a merry tune. "Oh boy! I wonder who my nakama are going to be? I hope they have devil fruits like me! I really do enjoy this Deus Deus no Mi! It's a logia and it's really awesome!" he said, even though there was absolutely _no one_ around to hear him. For a piece, he continued on, using the Seatrain tracks to navigate, for he had no navigation skills whatsoever, even in a sea as treacherous as the North Blue...granted, on most days one could _walk_ across the sea due to it being frozen. The Island he had just sailed from, Milky, was renowned for absolutely everything being white, white as snow. The streets were white, paved with white stones, the trees were white, everything was white. Takeo, or, as he shall be called from now on, Nakama Man, looked up at the train tracks as he heard a train passing overheard. "Oh boy! I wonder what kind of cool people are on that trai- Is that a bomb?" he asked, his eyes literally growing to the size of a game disc in shock. It blew up, soon causing the train to plummet directly into the water. Screams could be heard as more and more people were plunged into the icy depths. "Geez...I could probably help those guys if I didn't have this devil fruit! Oh well..." he said, his boat sailing on.

Never before in Musashi's life, even during his last day on Akebono, had he felt quite so helpless. He struggled around in the water, unable to even leave his seat. He had heard about this...about him being a 'hammer'. But he hadn't heard about this soul-crushing _helplessness_, about not being able to move a single inch, one way or the other. "Fuuuuck!" he screamed, although, to everyone around him, it was only air bubbles, emptying his lungs even further. Suddenly, he felt a hand, someone was tugging him. He opened his eyes, immediately closing them at the sting of the saltwater, but for a brief instant, he had seen a man, bringing him up. A few moments later, he opened them again, and he was out of the train cart, heading up towards the light, the ocean's surface. The last thing Musashi saw before closing his eyes again was several objects penetrating the water, heading down towards them. And soon after, just as he breathed air, struggling to let it into his lungs, he was sinking again, back into the deaths. Even in the water, screams could be heard, loud screams. Women's screams, Men's screams, even the odd child's scream.

He managed to flail about a bit now, but it did him absolutely no good. He was sinking, the world was going black. If someone didn't magically save him...he _would_ die. And suddenly, in the darkness around him, he saw two tiny red eyes, or at least he hoped they were eyes, since they were matching. They looked like cracks in the earth, and perhaps a devilish set of teeth could be seen. A voice spoke, as if from Musashi's head. "_Look's like it's the end of the road for you, boy._" it said. Just how menacing that voice was could not be overstated. It had that tone that seemed to show how amusing it found the situation...even if it didn't want Musashi to die. But suddenly, a hand showed itself through the darkness, a strong hand that pulled our dear boy up. The man that it was attached too sped through the water like a bullet, and eventually they surfaced...just as Musashi blacked out.

_Meanwhile..._

Johnathan Hunter was a strongly built man of about forty, and it was no mistake to anyone around him that he was nowhere near out of the prime of his life. He stood an even six feet, with a head full of red hair and a handlebar mustache. His features were handsome, and he scoured the frozen landscape of Milky apprehensively. "Daddy!" his youngest son called out. If the voice hadn't been so familiar, he would've raised his rifle up. He walked forward through the landscape, calling out for his son to come closer. There would be no mistakes in this. His son was no older than nine, his hair the same shade of red as Johnathan's. His son had a BB gun, one that couldn't possibly do anything worse than put an eye out. "Daddy, what're we doing out here again?" his son asked.

They were both wrapped up in the furs of creatures Johnathan had killed, he not believing in traditional clothing. Too civilized to him. "We're hunting a polar bear...I'm going to skin it and make some nice clothes for your mother." he said, his tone simple, plain. He was a hard man, having worked all his life from the moment he could walk. He did it happily though, for it made the lives of those he cared about easier. Happier. His younger son was more like him, his seventeen year old one preferring to stay inside the house reading books all day. He enjoyed the company of his older son, even though those books gave him some strange views of the world. He and his younger son eventually came upon their target, a rather old polar bear that was feeding on the carcass of some strange animal. Even Johnathan didn't know all of the Fauna of Milky. "Stay close." he whispered to his son, aiming his gun carefully. He waited for just the right moment, not wanting to miss, or worse, only hit the animal in an area where it would injure it. He took no pleasure in the act of killing, to be perfectly honest. And then, BAM, he shot. His son did his characteristic motion of dropping his BB gun and covering his ears, not enjoying the sound of bullets very much. The bear was dead, the bullet blowing clear through it's brain. Our man patted his son on the shoulder, before holstering his rifle and dragging the bear carcass. Soon, they were back home...and his oldest son ran to meet him.

"Pa! That train ma was on...someone set up a bomb on the tracks." he said, it seemed like he was crying. Johnathan's eyes widened in shock, dropping the carcass.

"Jack, take Billy inside. You and Sharon keep him company...I'm going into town."

'Why can't I come, Pa?" Jack asked his father, his tone sounding a bit desperate.

"Because I need you here, son. If something's happened to your ma...I don't want any of my children around when I find out for sure." Johnathan said, with a note of finality. He quickly readied his carriage, setting out for town at a hurried pace.

Jack was a slightly chubby boy of seventeen. He had his father's red hair as well, with curious blue eyes that trailed his father as he rode off into the distance. "Comon, Billy." he said to his younger brother, ushering him inside." And out came his little sister, a girl of fourteen. She had long, dark red hair, tied in braided pigtails. Given a few more years, she'd be _really_ pretty.

She seemed in shock as much as any of them, her freckled face pink with worry. "I hope Mom's alright...us and her's the only thing that's been keeping Dad going..." she said...and just then, a bullet cut her down. Jack turned in surprise, looking all around and not seeing anyone around. A bullet took his life too. There was nothing dramatic about it, no special speech before he died. He was just...dead. Billy was left standing there alone, too scared to move. His siblings were dead on either side of him. Soon, five men in black dusters and fedoras emerged from over a hill, all of them carrying rifles with scopes on them. Accompanying them was one floating skull that always seemed to have a sneer on his face.

"Search the house, find their father." the leader of the men said, none other than Richard, then second in command of the Sorielle crime family.

"Well Richard, what the feck are we goin' to do with the leetle one?" the skull asked.

"Well, Morte, since you were so kind as to mention my name..." he responded, raising a revolver and pointing it at Billy's chest. "Sorry kid...it's strictly business. I promise." he said, before pulling the trigger...

_Several hours later_

It was dark, night having fallen across Milky. Auroras were visible in the sky, as if serving as a vigil for the massacre that had taken place, both on the train and at the Hunter's ranch. Musashi's limp body suddenly started moving wildly, convulsing and having a coughing fit. "Shit! Fuck! FUCK!" he screamed, sitting up rather quickly.

"Thought you were a goner for sure, kid." a voice said nearby. Musashi looked around, finding himself in what appeared to be a fisherman's hut. There was a woman lying next to him, perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair was a mess, eyeliner strewn across her face...being in the water would do that to you. "That's Johnathan Hunter's wife...her name's...uuuuh...Sophie." that voice said, causing Musashi to follow it. There was a man sitting on a nearby counter, a wild smile across his face. He seemed like something straight out of those old pirate stories he read as a child...that smile seemed to reassure him, making our dear boy think everything would be alright. "The name's Raito D. Himura." He had dark skin, not so dark as to be considered black, more of a tan. A baby's snores were heard nearby, followed by a cheer or two. Before Musashi could ask, again, the man said "That's my son Kenshin...Raito D. Kenshin. Don't ask what the D. stands for...it's just a family tradition...going so soon?" he said, as Musashi was standing up. "No, I can't read your mind...I'm just good at reading _people._ Then again, maybe it's the same thing...that'd be a good sign for outside: Raito D. Himura...Psychic! Beat's Seal Hunter, that's for damn sure." he said.

"Thank's for the fuckin' hospitality...I've met worse motherfuckers in my time." Musashi said in response.

As he gathered his things, putting on his winter wear, consisting of a black duster and fedora over his usual attire, he heard Raito ask a question. "You were sinking like a hammer...I haven't been on Milky forever y'know...I know what a devil fruit is. Mind telling me what your fruit is?"

Musashi had heard much more demanded of him by people he owed a lot less, so he responded "The Ryu Ryu no Mi...let's me turn into a Dragon." he said, not even making a big deal out of the fact. He had never used the fruit for much...it was really quite bulky, and for all the supposed 'benefits' of devil fruits, more often than not, his fruit became a burden for him.

"The town's about five miles north...not too far away. Byebye Aqualung." Raito D. Himura said, waving as the door closed. Musashi walked up the road for a piece, wondering why a bomb had been planted along those train tracks. _He_, at that time, wasn't important enough to kill, and nobody else on that train seemed worth noting. It all seemed like one gigantic mystery to him...oh well, it was none of his business. He had gotten to that island...somehow. He drew his Katana from it's sheath, checking it's edges for rust from the water. Everything seemed to be working good. Same with his revolvers. However, as he was checking them, he felt a rifle get placed against the back of his head.

"Black duster...fedora. Walking the roads at night. He's part of that gang that murdered the Hunter children." a man said. Soon, thirty others surrounded him. Marines. Real marines, too...not the kind that lost fights to teenagers with stretching fruits. "I don't know who you are...but you will _pay_ for what you did."

"Oh, fuck."

To be continued...

(Seem's like ole Musashi's a bit shit outta luck. Join us on the next installment of 'Hellbound'...from now on, I'm doing one chapter a week at least...I promise.)


	4. Ballad of the Immigrants

Session IV

Ballad of the Immigrants

Johnathan Hunter soon found himself in town, after much hectic riding, and jumped off of his carriage. People were walking about, murmuring amongst themselves. Rumors were abound as to who had blown up the Sea Train tracks, many people were blaming others. Others said domestic terrorists. "Everyone remain calm." a noted individual around Milky said, "I'm sure whatever happened will come to light soon enough." he said, although only caused the panic to increase. These were simple people, and they didn't often get this kind of excitement, as perverted as this form of it was.

"Was your wife on that train, Mister?" Johnathan asked, his voice rough, a little worry in his voice, more anger at how nobody seemed to care about the _people_ that were on that train, just what caused it. "Cause mine was...and at the moment, it look's to me like you folks are more worried about who did this than the people who just died."

"Well, of course we're worried, sir. Have I seen you before?" he asked, looking John up and down, trying to figure out just who he was. "Oh, you're that Hunter man that lives further into the island...yes, I remember now. Well sir, we've pulled several bodies from the sea, some of them look riddled with bulletholes, and most everyone has been accounted for except one person...your wife, as a matter of fact." The noted individual said, which made John smile, just a little, in spite of it all. In the crowd, a rather inconspicuous looking man was listening in on the conversation. At the news that only one person had survived, he quickly found a way out of the crowd, heading towards a camp a few miles out. At this time, it was still daylight, yet a campfire was built by the Mooks of a certain green haired individual to keep themselves worn.

"Mister Sorielle," he said, nodding curtly at his employer. "Word in the town is that everyone that was on that train died...well, except one person. A woman, the wife of a local man." 

Richard acknowledged the man, Morte floating nearby. "And what, pray tell, was her name, Anthony?" he asked, his voice filled with that same sneering tone as usual.

"I believe her last name was...Hunter, yes, Hunter."  
"Hunter? You're quite sure of this?"  
"Bows, this 'ere's wah I tewl yah not to hire the daft uns." Morte interjected.

"Quite the good point, Morte." Richard said, standing up. He was leaning on a cane, pushing his weight on it as he looked around, from person to person. "So, gentleman...what's this I hear about a survivor? My father and I paid you to be thorough. We paid you to murder each and every single person on that train. We even paid a Saboteur to plant a bomb on the tracks, no easy feat. We did everything we could so that all you had to do was clean up the people who didn't drown. And yet...you miss the most important part of your job. That...is utterly unacceptable, gentlemen. I'm afraid those of you that were on those traintracks earlier...are fired." and with that, he snapped his hand. Those that were with him when he murdered those Hunter children opened fire, murdering the four that had butchered people mercilessly in the icy waters beneath the sea train tracks.

"Sheeite...I ever tell yeh I like yer style?" Morte asked, floating shoulder to shoulder with Richard.

"Numerous times."

~~Several Hours Later~~

Richard and Morte found themselves aboard the vessel where Richard's father was staying, an elderly man of about sixty-five. He was starting to gain weight in his old age, and although he was the head of the Sorielle crime family, based out of the South Blue island of Neo, he often left matters up to his son. But this, he had decided he was going to personally oversee this. A newly emerging resource in the ever-changing economy of the seas was Oil, and a large reserve of the black substance, in stark contrast to the milky island above, rested directly below the Hunter's land. The elderly Sorielle stroked his finely shaven mustache, looking at Richard with anger in his eyes. He could hardly even walk anymore. "Richard, I'm quite disappointed in you." he said, his voice barely above a deep whisper.

"I though that your brutal nature could be curved, perhaps, that I could groom you to take over our family's business in time, but this seem's to be the final straw to me. You're a bully, your methods are brutal, and you don't seek to give anything back to those who deserve it." he continued, his voice raising, "You were supposed to SCARE the Hunters, not butcher their children...Richard, is that honestly how you think we've survived all these years?"

And up to that point...Richard had been quiet, his hands crossed, thinking. His features were hidden beneath his fedora. Morte was feigning being immobile on a pillow on the same couch as Richard. "Question, Father. What is a criminal?"

"It's what we are, Richard...but doesn't mean we have to stop being good pe-"  
"WHAT is a criminal, Father?" Richard asked again, standing up. "Oh, no answer that doesn't involve morality? Okay, then. A criminal is someone who takes from the idiots and gives it to themselves. We take from those lacking in intelligence to the point that, to get through their day, they have to buy narcotics from us. A criminal is someone who takes what he wants with a wanton disregard for others. You rose to power by being the most brutal man on the block, and when I was a kid, I looked up to you, Father. But now you're too old...too _weak_ to realize that, to get things done, you _have_ to be brutal, merciless. I heard a story about you, a long time ago, father. I heard that you'd boasted that you'd kill your own children to stay in power...this is your chance to prove that tale right.

Richard placed a revolver on his father's desk, the same one with which he had used to murder Billy Hunter. "Shoot, shoot me daddy!" Richard screamed, doing a mocking impersonation of a child's voice. "Shoot me!~ I'll shoot you if you don't~!" he said, approaching his father's desk, step by step. "You'd better pick that gun up and shoot me, old man...things aren't going to turn out well for you if you doooon't~!" he said, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

"You can't force me to do this, boy...GUARDS! RICHARD'S GONE MAD!" he screamed, hoping that his men would restrain his son.

"Oh, poor, poor daddy." Richard said, putting two gloved hands down onto his father's desk and sneering at him, "I've been planning something like this for months...the guards are all on _my_ side now. There's not a thing you can tell them that'll persuade them to help you out after what I promised them. Oh, and you know what _else?_" he asked, looking like the devil himself. "If you don't shoot me, I'm going to murder your family...my sisters, your wife...everyone but _me!_ And you know how you could prevent that? You don't want poor, sweet Anna to die, do you? You don't want my Mother to be smothered to death like some kind of common animal, huh~? Well, lemme tell you how you can stop all of that...SHOOT ME!" Richard bellowed. "Here, I'll even help you out."

Richard picked up his father's hands, which were now visibly shaking, and wrapped them around the revolver. He pointed the gun directly at his own head, his father's finger on the trigger. "You can make sure none of that happens, old man...all you have to do is...pull the trigger." and oh, Richard's father was tempted...but he couldn't bring himself to murder the person that, deep down, was his _heart_, as brutal and malicious as Richard was. He started softly sobbing, begging his son to stop this charade, that _he _would start improving...but not like this. "I see your mind's made up...to think I looked up to you once." And he forced the gun out of his father's hands. "So sorry, Father...this is strictly business..._I promise_." he said, before shooting his father, without pity, without mercy, without remorse. And from that moment onward, Richard Sorielle was the head of the crime family his father had started in the days following Monkey D. Luffy's death. "Morte, go get a cleanup crew to take care of the excrement. I have business to take care of on this island before we head home."

"Wiff plehshah, bowss." Morte said, suddenly appearing to be alive again, floating off to do what he was told to.

~~Meanwhile~~

Johnathan was about to jump back into his carriage, to head back home. He had to go and check on his children, make sure they were alright...he could worry about Sophie more after he tucked them all into bed. "Um...John?" a timid voice said behind him. Another man from the town, Liam...always had been a timid fellow. "I'm not sure how to tell you this in a way that you can handle but...well..." he continued, apparently everyone else was too scared to tell him.

"Spit it out, Liam." he said gruffly, not wanting to waste time.

"Well, the good news is...Raito found your wife apparently, and now he's tending to her in his shack on the coast."

At that, a genuine smile crossed Johnathan's face, he was happy. "Heh...you don't say. Well what's the bad news, friend?"

"Well...uh..." and Liam turned back to face everyone else nervously before turning back to John. "Well...some people saw some smoke from your house...your children...they're...they're..." and then he said, almost in a whisper. "_Dead_"

"Excuse me?" John asked, hoping he'd heard Liam wrong.

"Someone came to your farmstead...and murdered your children. From Jack to Billy." he said.

John's reaction was heartwrenching, a pure, unbridled cry, like a majestic animal wounded, wounded where it hurt the most. "WHAT...THE...HELL?" he asked, falling to his knees and touching the ground. "Why would someone wanna do that to them? Those...those kids ain't ever hurt nobody." he said, trying to contain himself. A mixture of anger and grief was welling up inside of him. Someone reached to pull him gently, and John lunged up, punching them in the face. "MY. CHILDREN. ARE. DEAD!" he screamed, and everyone there seemed to be looking at what they perceived in awe...some thought they saw tears in his eyes.

"They didn't do nothin' to nobody! Jack...Jack...all Jack wanted to do was read and write..." he said, stumbling about, talking to himself more than anyone else, as if in a daze. "Michelle...she wanted to go to the West Blue...to that Pika-whatchamacallit...she wanted to be in those movies...Billy, Billy just wanted to be like his daddy. THEY DIDN'T HURT **ANYONE!" **he screamed. Another person approached him, and yet another person received a punch that sent them flying. "DON'T COME NEAR ME." he bellowed, "Which one of YOU FOLKS have ever had to bury your own babies? HUH? NOT A ONE? THAT'S RIGHT!" he screamed. Behind him, he heard the sound of a revolver being cocked.

"Now mister Hunter, I know you've just lost three kids...but calm down, man! You're scaring people. You punch one more person and I arrest you for disturbing the peace."

"Disturbing the peace? My goddamn children are DEAD. D-E-A-D. YOU CAN'T EXACTLY TELL ME TO CALM DOWN." John continued.

"Alright then...Mister Hunter, you're under arrest for disturbing the pe-" and, quicker than greased lightning, John had drawn a revolver and shot, shooting the marine who'd just attempted to arrest him's right hand clean off. Five seconds later, he had around fifteen rifles, all pointed at his head, their bayonets piercing his throat slightly.

"Johnathan Hunter, you're under arrest for disturbing the peace and aggravated assault on a marine, as well as two counts of assault."

~~Once again, meanwhile~~

Musashi was in an interrogation room. A white one, obviously. Everything else on this fucking island seemed to be white. "Why'd you do it, boy?" a marine interrogator asked, sunglasses and the general brightness of the room blocked his sight.

"The fuck did I do, marine?"  
"You know damn well what you did...you marched onto the Hunter ranch and murdered Johnathan and Sophie Hunter's children. You look barely older than them...what are you? A child hitman? Tell us, kid."  
"I DIDN'T MURDER ANYONE MOTHERFUCKER...well...today, anyways."  
"Your clothes...that fedora and duster you were wearing...the same thing witnesses claim the man responsible for this was wearing. Coincidence? And what were you doing on the roads after nightfall? The locals all know that such a thing is too dangerous."  
"I was on the fucking sea train...you know, the one whose tracks blew into a million fucking pieces. Nice work, marine. How many fuckers died on THAT?"  
"A likely story," the interrogator retorted, ignoring his question, "but we searched your clothes and no ticket or anything like that was found on your person."

"Well it's fuckin' obvious I stowed away and went up to a seat when nobody was paying attention, isn't it?" he asked, spite and adolescent anger in his voice.

"No way we can prove that, and we have plenty of other evidence that places you at the scene."  
"Well, fuck...you and your's are just the brightest motherfuckers in the bunch, aren't you? To think I wanted to be a fucking marine one day."  
"That's-" and then, another marine walked in, clearly flustered.

"They brought in Hunter...he shot the hand off of a marine after he found out the news...chances are they're just going to whip him and let him be on his way...emotional trauma and all that."  
"Huh...I think I just thought of a way to give our friend here the punishment he deserves...and get Mister Hunter out of a whipping. The hole."  
"The hole?"

~~

"Now see, lady, I'm not sure how familiar you are with the affairs of the Blue islands...but very few of them were ALWAYS civilized." Richard explained to his interrogator. "The island of Milk had once fancied itself an empire in it's own right, before your government showed up and put the island, as small and insignificant as it had seemed, in it's place. After that, one of it's oldest features served as a reminder of old days...the hole. An arena, dug deep into a glacier, with all but the finest seats in it carved from the ice as well. It was there criminals were taken to be judged, the winner going free and the loser, well...you know this, many cultures have this sort of thing. It was there that I first met Kuros..."

"And your first impression of him?"

"Well..."  
~~

Musashi was being dragged across ice by his two marine captors, down a long hall that seemed to be carved from even more ice. After what seemed like an eternity, they came into an open arena, where people were chanting, hooting and hollering. They wanted to see action, although that was disguised as them merely wishing to see justice done upon Musashi. And there, directly above the opposite walkway...was Richard, backed by several of his men. They were there taking bets on who would win. For a moment, Musashi and Richard's eyes met.

_I knew I'd found my lucky racehorse_

To be continued...

(Well, a man stricken with grief over the loss of his family and our hero, framed for one of the few murders he'd ever be charged with that he didn't commit, are about to square off with nothing but their fists and wits. Let's see how this will play out next week on...Hellbound.)


	5. Wish you were here

Session V

Wish you were here

There Musashi was, tossed onto the floor of an Arena deep underground, carved from a glacier. He panted, looking up. There was a man in front of him...Johnathan Hunter, although he hadn't learned the name yet. "The fuck is this shit?" he asked, standing up. Before he had even finished, Mr. Hunter was lunging forward, grabbing our favorite pipsqueak roughly by the shoulders and pulling him back, until he was against the walls of the arena. He punched Musashi across the jaw once, twice, three times.

"What in the hell you mean? You murdered my children and now you're LYING about it. Why the hell did you do it? I haven't got much in life you dirty son of a bitch, and you just took away most of what I have to lose." he screamed, his breath filling Musashi's nostrils with a putrid stench. "They had dreams you son of a bitch, they ain't hurt nobody!" Mr. Hunter continued, before throwing Musashi to the ground, face first. "But y'know what? I'm not about to beat you to death. I'm going to let you fight back. It's damn sure better than what you did to them." he said, cracking his knuckles as he waited on Musashi to stand back up.

Musashi just lay there for a few moments, deciding what to do. "You...are a fucking...DUMBASS." he screamed, right when Johnathan was caught off guard, Musashi jumping up and delivering a swift uppercut. He jumped back quickly, his self-developed fighting style calling for always being on the move, ALWAYS making sure to take advantage of dirty openings. He swiftly kicked Johnathan in the side, spitting out blood. The two circled each other for a few moments, as if sizing the other up.

In the stands, meanwhile, more specifically the V.I.P. Booth that had only just recently been added, Richard, Morte, and several heads of Mob families that Richard's father had brought along were watching the fight with interest. Richard was in the back, his fedora hiding his eyes as per usual. The rest were bickering about bets, but Richard himself? He was deep in thought. Morte was floating nearby, himself oddly quiet.

"Hmm...this is interesting, certainly."  
"This kid that's been framed...he really does seem quite good. The locals say Hunter's never had a fight last longer than when he started punching."  
"Obviously Hunter's toying with him out of grief, don't place your bets so soon."  
Richard's pale yellow eyes finally peaked out from under the Fedora, a shadow cast over them. "Gentlemen, let's make this interesting, shall we?" he asked.

"Hmm...just made the head of your family and already making bets, Richard? What would your father say?"  
"That's utterly unimportant. Shall we make the bets or no?"

"Why...certainly, if everyone else agrees."

"My money's on the boy."

"Mine's on Hunter."  
"I'll take a bet on Hunter, too."

"Well then, I'll stake my entire crime empire...that neither of them will win, but not by any invervention on our part." Richard said, a smile crossing his face.

"That's...well...that's a bold claim, Richard. Are you certain? And how do you know that's how things will go?"  
"Behcawse deh plot dehmands it, yeh great beg cawksuhkah." Morte said, finally breaking the silence he had been maintaining.

"As the skull said, so let us, without further adieu, watch."

And down below, Musashi and Johnathan ran into one another, their arms on each other's chests. Johnathan was obviously stronger, but Musashi was no pushover himself. At the very least, he was holding his ground until he thought of something. He bucked his head back, headbutting Johnathan. That surprised him, allowing Musashi to break free and punch him a few more times. Our dear Mr. Hunter soon regained his composure, grabbing Musashi's arm and twisting it. "You're a dirty little cuss, aren't you? What's next? Kneeing me in the balls?"

"Well...now that you mention it..." Musashi said, attempting to do just that. Johnathan stopped him, however, tossing his knee back, which nearly caused our dear boy to fall, if not for Johnathan's grip on his arm. "Let me go you dumb motherfucker, I didn't murder your fucking kids!" he screamed, looking Johnathan in the eyes with a rather angry look. "You dumb, dumb shit! I was on that fucking Sea Train that exploded! I was out cold for for-fucking-ever! I didn't even know you fucking existed!" he screamed, struggling to get out of his grip.

Johnathan thought about that for a moment, loosening his grip on Musashi just long enough that Musashi slipped out, moving in close to Johnathan and releasing a stream of punches onto him, pushing him back. Musashi had never, ever been good with hand-to-hand combat, always preferring to use his Katana and Revolvers. He'd leave that hand-to-hand shit to the excessively stupid when he could help it. "For someone that claims to be innocent, you sure are fighting a lot, boy." Johnathan said, attempting to block Musashi's punches. The lithe boy had speed on his side, but eventually Johnathan punched, sending him flying back.

"Well like shit if I'm going to stand here and let you BEAT ME TO DEATH FUCKER!" he screamed, keeping his distance. Musashi was starting to tire, just a little.

"An honest man wouldn't have anything to fear. I've been trying all my life to provide for them, and then you come in and..."

And that was enough for Musashi. He screamed a stream of curses to the high heavens...before removing his shirt. He unbuttoned it so fast that a few of them ripped off, revealing a bare chest. Johnathan's eyes widened in shock. His chest appeared as if it were burnt, with scars running all over it, with scars ranging from slash-wounds to those done by gunshots, to everything in between. It looked like every single kind of weapon that could strike Musashi...had. "Oh, and you think that's the worst, you dumb shit?" Musashi screamed, revealing his back...which was even worse. The scars there were absolutely _horrifying_. It looked like he had been tortured by someone who took a great deal of pride in their work. "You think _you're_ the only one who's lost people they care about to a bunch of motherfuckers looking to further their own ends? You think _you're_ the only one that's ever been hurt? Had people they care about die? Well **FUCK. YOU.**" he screamed, lunging forward and giving Johnathan Hunter a haymaker that he didn't even attempt to avoid. Granted, he took it like it was nothing, but still.

And then...

"Enough!" an elegant voice said. Both Musashi and Johnathan looked up, and Musashi saw that woman again, the one that he had seen in Raito D. Himura. She had no makeup on, but with her face cleaned up...she was still quite beautiful. All fight left Johnathan Hunter, and he looked up at his wife in shock. "This boy did not murder our children, John...quit this foolishness at once...we've lost enough people today." she said.

Johnathan turned back to Musashi with a rather sad expression on his face. "I'm...well, I'm sorry." he said. There was nothing else to say. Musashi's reaction was rather understanding. He patted Johnathan on the shoulder and spoke a few words.

"Fuck...I'd probably have done the same thing. Shit, if someone told me you were on Gol Drak'hul's crew, I would've shot you on the spot...you may have punched the shit out of me...but if you want some help with tracking down the people who did this to you, I'll help you any way I can." he said, and Johnathan just nodded.

It was several hours later, under the nighttime auroras that Johnathan and his wife were standing in front of three freshly dug graves, Johnathan having just gotten done burying his children. Neither of them said a word, Husband and Wife just standing there, staring at the graves of their children, at the graves of those that they had strived to succeed for, tried to give them everything they could. And here they were, cut down by a senseless act of brutality for something that nobody there was aware of. Musashi was against a tree, it's bark half frosted over. Musashi pulled his white hair out of his eye...and he started singing something. An old Akebono funeral dirge he'd heard as a child.

так что вы думаете, что Вы можете сказать,

(So, you think you can tell)

Небеса из ада,

(Heaven from Hell)

And Johnathan and his wife turned, looking at him. They couldn't understand a word of it, yet, somehow, they knew it was a song of mourning...and they listened, without a word as they continued to gaze at their children's graves.

Blue Скайс от боли.

(Blue skies from Pain)

Можете ли вы сказать зеленом поле

От холодной стальной оградой?

(Can you tell a green field,

from an old steel rail?)

улыбкой и маской?

(A smile from a veil?)

Как вы думаете, вы можете сказать?

(Do you think you can tell?)

И они заставили тебя менять

Ваши герои на призраков?

(And did they get you to trade,

your heroes for ghosts?)

Горячий пепел на деревья?

Горячий воздух на прохладный ветерок?

(Ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool beeze?)

Прохладный комфорт на перемены?

(Cold comfort for change?)

И ты

ходить на участие в войне

За главную роль в клетке?

(And did you exchange,

a walk-on part in the war

for a leading role in a cage?)

And this next part, as Johnathan and his wife became utterly entranced by his singing, he began singing in english, where they could understand what he was saying completely, wishing for them to understand every word of this.

Oh how I wish...wish you were here

We're just...two lost souls

swimmin' in a fish bowl,

Year after year

Walking the same old ground,

what have you found?

The same old fears

Wish you were here.

And with that, Musashi didn't say another word, he merely stood up and stood up, walking into the Hunter house as Johnathan's wife began to cry softly into his chest.

Meanwhile, Richard and his cohorts were planning something. He had gained control of basically every other major mob operation in Neo City from that little stunt, and he was quite smug about that fact. "So, gentlemen, today I have gained your total cooperation, have I not? So I am going to ask you put your combined efforts into our assault on the Hunter ranch tomorrow. Things are about to get...hectic." he said. And with that, they began to pour over the plans for the next day...

To be continued...

(Not my best chapter, and I'm sure it's going to come off as Narm to a lot of people...but I tried, and I can't wait to write the next chapter. Double post? Find out next time on...Hellbound!


	6. Las Perros

Session VI

Las Perros

The morning after the funeral was cold, as per usual, but the Hunter household was warm, warmed by a furnace in their basement that Johnathan kept filled with Coal, so that he and his family would always be warm, even in a cold place like Milky. The bright sun touched Musashi's face as dawn came, the light waking him up as it always had. He sat up, looking around the room he was in. It was the room of Johnathan's oldest son, Johnathan Hunter, Jr...nicknamed Jack. The boy had loved to write apparently, it showed quite clearly in the various writing utensils and unfinished short stories scattered about. Musashi had never had a knack for writing, preferring to express himself through his favorite pastime of shooting things until they were dead. He stood up, looking out the window. For a place covered by snow, the sun seemed to shine quite a bit...twenty degrees would be hot to them, Musashi thought. He soon left the room, heading into the dining room. There Mrs. Hunter was sitting, by herself, at the dinner table. She looked at Musashi, not saying a word. Our hero took a seat nearby, his presence making that silence awkward. A few minutes later, she finally spoke. "John went into town for a few things...he'll be back soon, I hope. Then you two are going to ride around and ask some questions..." she said, her tone devoid of all emotion. Musashi, for all of his bad points, couldn't help but pity her, even if he told most people in that kind of a situation to suck it up. "Mister Kuros, would you like some breakfast?" she asked, as if desperate for something to do. Musashi nodded, and soon after, Mrs. Hunter was up and about, fixing him something to eat. Our dear boy turned to look at her work, grabbing eggs, flour, mix, that sort of thing and cooking like it was nothing. "My two boy's favorite meals were pancakes...pancakes with eggs." she said, her voice trembling slightly, "They'd always beg me to cook them pancakes for breakfast...I could never resist...they always smiled after eating them...I loved to see my boys smile." after that, she labored in silence until the pancakes and the eggs were done, which took some time. She sat them down on a plate in front of Musashi, motioning for him to eat. Mrs. Hunter then proceeded to sit down, watching him eat like a rabid dog, as he always did. "Didn't your Father ever teach you any manners?" she asked, curtly.

"He fuckin' tried."

_Five years previously_

"No, no, no Musashi!" His father said, chastising him. "You have to eat with your _fork!_ If your mother could see you now...she'd turn over in her grave! Tearing steak apart with your hands. You've gotten juice in your hair." his father said, wiping him off. A young Musashi looked up at him, a wide, innocent smile on his face.

"I don't see what the big deal is...I just like to get down to business!" he said, his voice still as accented as his modern day counterpart was.

"You won't be very popular with the ladies if you keep _that_ attitude up." his father quipped, chuckling at his son's confused look. "Look...I know all I ever seem to do is correct you...but someone has too. You won't get too far in the marines if you can't even eat right...what if you're being commended for performing well in a battle and a banquet's being held in your honor? You might be turned down for a promotion if your superiors see you eatubg like a dog."

_But a dog's all you are_

_Present_

"Well...he mustn't have been very successful." she said, pointing out what seemed to be the obvious thing, "What happened to him?"  
"He left...left me alone." Musashi responded, looking off into the distance, "and then things went to hell in a hand basket."

"It sounds like John and I aren't the only ones who've lost someone..." she said, her voice so mature, even for her age.

"I suppose you're not...but, in the end, I left too. And I've done lots of bad things since then, Miss. I've killed people...I've killed lots of the fuckers. Some of them I'd kill twice just to make sure they were good and fucking dead. I've left people that trusted me behind for the sake of revenge...I've had a lot of regrets since leaving him, to be honest." it seemed as if Musashi and Mrs. Hunter were pouring their hearts out to each other.

"...I haven't had an easy life, either. I was a whore in a brothel for a while...I was the eighth child my mother had...they couldn't afford another one so they dumped me in front of an orphanage. I never even learned how to read...but I was beautiful, or so everyone said. And so, I made a living, I made a living on my back and on my knees. And then I met John. I'd met a lot of Johns in my life...but he was different. He was running with some Pirate crew, gunslinging across the seas, but he'd buy me for an hour or two...we wouldn't even have sex. We'd just sit and talk, about what we wanted to do, how badly we wanted out of our lots in life...and then we fell in love. We got married, had Jack...we've lived here ever since. We'd just gotten our life back on track, and then..._and then..._" and Mrs. Hunter crossed her hands, her head bending down. Musashi could tell she was crying. He didn't really know what to do, nor what to say...so he simply reached out a hand, patting her on the shoulder. She let his hand stay, and so, without even knowing what he was going to say, he started talking.

"I'm a bad man, miss...I don't know what the fuck to tell you...all I-"

"Do you ever worry about your soul, Mister Kuros?"

"My what?" he asked, a little bit taken aback. Nobody had ever said anything like that to him before.

"Your soul. You say you've killed before...but you're so _young_. You're not even a _man_ yet. Don't you worry what will happen to you when you die?" she asked, and this time it was Musashi's turn to look gloomy, his draconic eyes focusing on a piece of wood on the table, as if in a trance.

"When you...when you see everyone you care about die...when you walk into the village where you've lived your whole life and you see every child, neatly lined up against a wall with their hands chopped off and their throats slit, when you see every man being forced to dig his own grave and then being forced into it, some shot and others having weights placed on them and buried alive, when you see their wives and the other women being violated in the streets as if they were _animals_, you realize...the creature that could look upon such things and grow stronger from them..._has_ no soul."

Mrs. Hunter laughed slightly, ever so slightly at that, "You sound like John when he was younger, Mister Kuros. I don't know what's driving you, but maybe you ought to settle down, like me and John did. Find yourself a nice girl and live life while you're young? You're not old like me and John...you have time to start again."

And all Musashi had to say to that was a hoarse "I...can't do that, Miss."

_Meanwhile_

"Alright, men, listen up," Richard said, his suit cleaned, making sure to look prim and proper. His Fedora was placed neatly on his head, two guns holstered, one on each hip. He was walking around with a cane in his hand, thirty or forty men listening to his every word. They were all in those same Dusters and fedoras, as if this was all just correcting a mistake, "We are here to initiate a hostile takeover of this stretch of land. All we have to deal with is a couple in their mid-forties...nothing too complicated. We're doing this because their house sits upon what is quickly rising to become the most valuable commodity in the world: Oil. If we can get our hands on this land and start drilling, the money will simply start pouring in. Be very careful, try and not aim at the ground too much. I don't want any of you buffoons setting the place on fire or causing an explosion or anything like that. Do I make myself perfectly, pristinely, clear?" He asked, gaining him a round of nods from everyone listening. "Good." With that, they started moving out, heading towards the Hunter Ranch...

"Well, why is that, Mister Kuros?" Mrs. Hunter asked, not understanding.

"You ever heard of Gol Drak'Hul?" He asked, his tone becoming full of hate.

"Of course...who hasn't heard of the Kuro Tsumes and their captain? They have quite a few bases in every sea I hear."

"Yeah...that's true. I have a bone to pick with him...a big fuckin' bone." he said...and just then, he saw figures out of the window, coming over a hill. Black Dusters and fedoras. "DOWN!" he screamed, lunging forward and tackling Mrs. Hunter, chair and all, to the ground. Gunshots rang through the air, and both Musashi and Mrs. Hunter jumped up, hiding behind a wall. "Fuck...fuck. Tell me you know how to use a gun." he said, drawing his revolver.

"I've been married to John for twenty years...I think I know a thing or two about shooting." She said, sneaking into her bedroom. Musashi followed her, and he saw a gun cabinet filled with repeaters, a new kind of rifle that had come into popularity for Marine and civilian use in the past few years. She tossed one to Musashi, getting a scoped Repeater for herself. "These hold twenty-two shots before you have to reload...make every shot count."  
"Lady...I think these are the fuckers that murdered your children." Musashi said, whilst loading his repeater. All Mrs. Hunter did in response to that...was smile a rather blood thirsty smile. They both stood up, walking towards the door. They were in for quite a fight.

"You can run away now if you like, Mister Kuros."

"Wouldn't fuckin' dream of it."

And with that, both Musashi and Mrs. Hunter kicked the door open, guns pointed. They took down two of Richard's advance men right away, both of them diving into cover. Musashi and Mrs. Hunter took turns alternating between who stood up and who waited behind cover, forcing Richard's men to dig in and do the same. Neither the duo defending the Ranch nor the men attacking it were prepared to give up an inch. "Move up...fuck..." Musashi said, scrambling forward. He hid behind a tree, clutching his gun. It had a strap on it, which he used to sling the thing around his back. Our dear boy drew his revolvers, appearing out of cover. A few of Richard's men were running over a hill, their rifles pointed at him. Time seemed to slow down for Musashi for just a few moments, his keen eyes picking out targets along their bodies. A few moments later, our hero was firing his revolver off, twelve clean shots. Most of them hit Richard's men, sending them tumbling into the snow. Musashi ducked behind a fence, reloading his revolver as quickly as he could. Mrs. Hunter covered for him, allowing him those precious seconds he needed.

Some unlucky fool had their head sticking out, and so Musashi blew their top clean off, their body flying back. The ground became soaked in blood from Richard's point of view. He scowled, pulling around ten men back. "Circle around, try and get behind them...we'll cover you." they nodded, and Richard himself climbed up into a tree, his scoped .98k rifle ready to shoot. He shot a bucket behind Mrs. Hunter, startling her enough that she turned around momentarily, which nearly led to her death. If it hadn't been for Musashi, chances are she would've been shot, but they were covering for each other remarkably well.

The standoff continued for quite a while, with more and more of Richard's men falling. Richard himself could've downed Mrs. Hunter plenty of times...but he wanted her alive. That that other one, Musashi according to the marines...he'd be useful as a lackey. Or maybe he was letting his personal wants get in the way of business. Eventually, he saw his mooks jump up onto the roof, pointing a gun at Mrs. Hunter and Musashi. They were trapped. He saw them both drop their guns, so he and his remaining men went forward. "Men, men, men!" Richard screamed, twirling on his cane, quite dramatically, "It seems that we've managed to corner Mrs. Hunter and the young Mr. Kuros...good for us, bad for them! Now, lady and gent, I'm not a man without reason." he said, as his mooks forced Musashi and Mrs. Hunter by one another, "So, Mrs. Hunter, get your husband to sign some papers saying that I can have full rights to this land and we'll call it even, alright?"

"I doubt my husband would ever give up the rights to our land...especially not to the son of a bitch that murdered our children." she said, a vicious tone in her voice. Musashi knew that if twenty-five or so guns weren't pointed at them, she'd probably be attacking Richard tooth and nail.

"It was strictly business, my dear, as I informed your youngest child...I promise. I only want the oil under your land...it's a very valuable commodity. I was hoping to get you and your husband as well...but it seems fate had other plans. I suppose I'll kill you and lay an ambush for yo-"

"Don't you move a single muscle, you green-haired freak, or I'll blow your brains out." Johnathan said, appearing out of nowhere. He had a gun to Richard's head. "You call off these men...and we'll settle this honorably. But you lay one hand on Sophie or this kid...and you'll get your pretty brains splattered all over the snow." Richard smiled, he honestly smiled!

"Men! Back off...I think I'll settle things honorable with Mister Hunter here." Richard said...winking to a few of his men. Musashi knew instantly what was going to happen...but calling it out would get them all killed. Richard started walking away, Johnathan doing the same...and then...the sound of Gunfire filled the air again, Johnathan Hunter turning around in his last few moments. Words tried to gurgle through his throat, only blood coming out. He slumped to his knees, staring at Richard with eyes filled with...confusion? Richard walked forward, drawing his gun. Everyone was distracted, Mrs. Hunter screaming out in horror at her Husband. He was still holding onto life, despite it all. "You're quite honorable, Mister Hunter. Unfortunately for you, I'm _not._" Richard said, his tone mocking. He drew a magnum, shooting Johnathan in the face. His body slumped to the ground. Soon after, the main men holding Mrs. Hunter were shot, dying one after the other.

"Try that shit with me, _motherfucker_." Musashi said, reloading as the men turned their attention on Musashi. He'd killed five of them in that burst of shots, and he dove into cover.

"Don't just stand there you buffoons, kill him!" Richard screamed, pulling out his own gun and firing. Musashi ran, not even bothering to stay in cover, shooting at Richard's mooks. They all fell, one by one, and when it came time to reload, Musashi was always in cover. During a particularly dramatic dive into cover after he thought he had emptied his guns, a shot went off into the ground, slightly in the open. His gun went off, as if on it's own. As our hero was reloading it, something caught his eye. Oil was trickling out of the ground. Black Gold. Texas Tea. That gave him an idea.

"Hey fuckhead!" Musashi called out, standing up. A wicked grin was on his face. If he was right, this was going to be beautiful. If not, well, he'd tried. "We're gonna _burn_!" Musashi screamed as he stood in the open. He fired his revolver into the trickle of oil, and a huge explosion racked the area. Everyone was knocked to their feet, and oil that had been set on fire started to pour out of, well, everywhere. A few of Richard's men were devoured by the flames in one such outburst, and a slight smile crossed Richard's face. The spot was useless to him now...he had no reason to stay...if he could get out. He soon fled with most of his men, some trapped by the flames. Oil was pouring from the ground, most of it on fire, and Musashi had to get to Mrs. Hunter...she couldn't die here. "I fuckin' hate doing this..." he said, closing his eyes. For once in his life, he utilized the powers of his devil fruit, transforming into a full Dragon in all of it's glory. He opened his eyes and there he was, towering over the place. He roared, the sheer energy from that roar blowing away the flames.

Musashi flapped his wings, fanning the flames away. He saw Mrs. Hunter clutching Johnathan's body, and Musashi dove at her, standing over her and continuing to fan the flames away. He was making the problem worse as a whole, but oh. Well. "Get on my fucking back!" he screamed, and she obeyed him almost instantly, piling herself and John's body onto his back. Without further adieu, he jumped, his wings kicking the ground. Soon, he was flying through the air, over housetops and the like. He made circles around the place, soon landing in a clear expanse of land in the town...changing back into a human as soon as he could. "Shit...SHIT...I'm...so...sorry." he said, looking down at Mrs. Hunter. She was clutching her husband's body, crying once again.

"John...John...John..." was all she would say, more tears flowing down her face. Musashi couldn't help but feel sorry for this woman. She had lost everything...everything. "We...we...what was the point in all that?" she asked between sobs, "what was the point in defending that strip of land of I lost John for it?" she asked.

"There wasn't..." Musashi said, sitting down nearby. Smoke filled the sky. The inhabitants of Milky would be lucky if they could still live on this island after what Musashi did. "There wasn't any point to it. For what it's fucking worth...sorry." he said, looking at her.

And then, suddenly, she looked up at him. "Mister Kuros...it...it seems death follows you wherever you go. Please...just...go." she begged. Musashi nodded, opening his mouth to speak again. "I...I don't want to hear it. I'll bury John...I'll make due. Just...please...go."

And so, Musashi went...he had come to the North Blue looking for information about Gol Drak'Hul...he'd never even gotten around to that because of circumstance...But that was the end of his time on Milky. He caught the next Sea Train to the island of Marquis, where he had been planning on going from the get-go.

"And that...well, that's how I met Kuros." Richard said, looking up at his interrogator with some amount of Amusement. "Kuros set fire to that oil vein via his revolver...nearly the whole island ended up catching on fire. Luckily, the marines had firefighters on hand...the island eventually recovered. But now, The Isle of Milk is scorched, forever changed by his presence...he had that effect." Richard finished.

"Well...I have one question before we move on to whatever you wish to tell me next." The Marine interrogator asked, running her finger along her perfectly formed chin.

"Hmm..."

"What happened to Sophie Hunter?"  
"Oh, her? She ended up working on a whorehouse again...I believe she died a few years ago, probably unhappy...he had that effect, too."

To be continued...

(Well, the tragic events at Milk are over...I told you this wasn't going to be a pretty tale about romance and finding One Piece...quit now while you're ahead, things just get more and more poignant from here on in. On an off note, the theme of Hellbound is 'Ballata Per Un Pistolero', if you ever feel like looking it up on youtube...it fits Musashi and his tale quite well. Join us next week on 'Hellbound')


	7. Around The World

Session VII

Around the World

_Present Day_

"What, might, I ask, Mister Sorielle, do you hope to gain by stalling me? You _know_ what it is that I want from you, what piece of information I want, the part of Musashi Kuros's story, but you tell me about, in order, a makeout session with Eva Ricketts, preventing a rape, and a skirmish over an oil field. Why won't you just skip to the part I _need_ to know?" Richard's interrogator asked, her eyes blinking rapidly in frustration.

Richard's response? His trademark smirk. He leaned back in his recliner, looking up at the woman beneath a fedora, his reptilian eyes gazing over every detail of her body, as if he was sizing up a cow to be sold at a livestock sale. He gazed at her body, the perfect curves that our world's Michelangelo could not have sculpted into a finer shape, even beneath a marine uniform, black as opposed to their trademark white, at her face, beautiful as could be, to her pretty blue eyes, so determined, yet so full of a certain _innocence_. Again, Richard smiled. "Lady...what does your government call me?" The interrogator looked at him, slightly confused by this question.

"What?" she asked.

"Don't act like you didn't hear me when I spoke as plainly as day. During my days on Kuros's crew and the immediate aftermath, what did the marines put on my bounty poster?"

There was a moment's hesitation, followed by the young lady reciting the answer to Richard's question as if she was reading a sentence out of a schoolbook she had memorized. "Richard Theodore Sorielle...The Merchant of Lives, wanted dead or alive by order of the World Government...for the some of a quarter of a billion bellis."

"Very good!" Richard clapped, leaning forward again. "And I bet, for all of the money your father put into your education, you can't give me a practical description as to what a Merchant of Lives is, can you?" The girl mumbled something stupid, unworthy of note. Again, Richard smiled. "A Merchant of Lives is a man who provides people with a...a service. They trade people something, something that the person that is buying from them cannot provide on their own. I could tell you all sorts of stories about the _people_ I've sold, but you're looking for a story. Kuros was my prized racehorse, and I'm not going to sell him short. If you want to know your one little bit of information, than you will leave here today knowing everything I know about Musashi Kuros."

The woman grunted in frustration, looking at Richard with fierce eyes. "Do you have _any_ idea what is at stake, while you sit here stalling? My father needs this information."

"I can certainly guess, my dear girl." Richard said, standing up. He was wearing a much fancier suit than the one he wore in his younger days, one embroidered with gold. He walked to a nearby window, peering out at the city in the distance. It was a clear day, not a cloud in the sky. "Your pretty little government is pissing it's pretty pink laced panties at the thought that another serious threat is finally looming over them. That two men from this very city, not even in their mid-twenties, have risen up from Kuros's example to light the fires of change in this world? You think I, of all people, don't know what's at stake, Miss? I'm expecting the call to come in to sail for Marejois any day. And let me take _another_ guess. You're hoping that, by me telling you about Kuros, you'll be able to predict what Blacksheath and Zenmetsu will do in the upcoming battle, due to a bit of Kuros being in both of them?" he turned back to face his interrogator, finding that her angelic features were a bit surprised at that. "It's my _job_ to know people, Miss. Now where was I...?"

_Kuros flew from the island of Milk, his mind too pre-occupied with the death and destruction he had caused there to focus on where exactly he was flying **too. **He soon found himself growing tired as he flew through the night, directly towards an oncoming blizzard. And it was as the new sun was rising that he saw it...Valkyrion, the frozen north, the top of the world. I had three rules, back then, rules that even I abidded by, and rule number three was...Don't mess with the Valkyrions. They are tough folk, and it was from that frozen wasteland that the first true pirates ever emerged, raiding, pillaging, murdering, raping. People from there were as strong as five pirates from anywhere else, and it was said that in such a land, myths could come to life...as Kuros would soon find out after he was forced to land on the island..._

_About twelve hours after departing Milky..._

Nothing ever seemed to go right for prolonged amounts of time for Musashi Kuros. It was always either a freak blizzard, accusations of murdering entire families, or just any old thing that could go wrong. He'd find himself tossed into situations beyond his control, and he'd always have to deal with it. "Why...the fuck...does this _shit keep happening to me?_" our hero asked, coughing up. The air around him was cold, it filled his lungs with reluctant life, as water crept all around his clothes, weighing him down as he struggled to his feet. He had been forced to do a hard landing, of sorts, after the blizzard that had swept the island of Valkyrion forced him down. He huffed heavily, the snowswept landscape spreading out before him. And, after that, he saw the oddest thing he had ever seen in his entire life. He saw a pair of figures with the bodies of xbox live nerds, clad in the white robes of roman gods. They were riding on white, wild horses, and in their hands were...pancakes. "Kiflam, my child." the red-haired one said.

"I think ima call in a few mortar strikes on yoooou~!"

"Oh Bobby, you silly goose, let's keep riding. You're so lucky to be riding BlossomBubblesButtercup, I wish I'd kissed up to the author. All I got was just this silly little donkey named Tickles"

"Shut up Trent! We can't let 'em know we made Cy force this scene into Hellbound! Tickles is sexy, anyway." Bobby retorted.

"Would both of you faggots kindly _shut the fuck up? _My Daughter's tryin' to sleep back here!" A rather large man named Don roared, as he tore into the two from the window of a Huey assault helicopter with Akimbo Miniguns.

"Fucking Black Ops fags." Musashi found himself saying. The world went dark for a moment again...only a dream. A weird, forced dream. He quickly decided that such a big lipped alligator moment would never be mentioned again, standing himself again...this time seeing a frosted forest. He looked up, seeing the storm above him thicken. "That fucking storm isn't going away...I need to find shelter." Musashi's hands were wrapped in bandages, round holes being visible through the clothes. Footsteps were heard in the distance. The hastened crumpling of leaves. Our hero quickly drew his katana and revolver, holding them opposite each other. Several ominous, snarling creatures jumped out at him. "I've been here for five fucking minutes...and I'm already being forced to kill shit. This is going to be unoriginal...but fun." The skin of these creatures was a light blue, the creatures standing about seven feet tall. The locals called them 'Ice Trolls', after the mythical creatures.

One of the beasts lunged at Musashi, knocking him back, further into the water. Our friend quickly recovered, shooting the creature in the face, before lunging forward, clearing himself of the water as he sliced into the second Troll's chest. It's pained groans awakened more of our boy's fighting spirit, and he didn't hesitate to follow up with a shot to the chest, sending it to the ground. Three more jumped over a tiny bump in the ground, Musashi shooting all three of them in the head. This was shaping up to be a..._heroic_ struggle.

The second of the five creatures he had defeated so far stirred below him, not even the combination of sword and gun being enough to put it down. Musashi lunged his sword downwards, piercing the Troll's skull. It gurgled a tiny bit more, before all signs of life faded from it's visage. Our hero shivered, the cold finally starting to set in on him. He ran into the woods, trying to distance himself from the beach as much as possible. As much as he liked the idea of his power, he hated the idea of drowning, of how powerless it made him in the water. "Motherfucking-A, where'd I end up...Norway?" he panted, turning wildly, the gun in his hand finding another of the monsters within it's sights. The creature ran at him, the white haired youth raising it to block the claws it inevitably attempted to hit him with. This left the creature relatively undefended against a cleave that removed it's head, a slight rustling of the grass behind him alerting our boy to the presence of another creature. He grabbed the body of it's recently deceased counterpart, about to fall, and he turned around. Musashi had dropped his Katana in the process, but that wouldn't matter for now. The troll's claw punctured it's counterpart's body, stopping short of our dear boy's. He aimed up with his revolver, shooting the creature in the head. He unloaded his magnum quickly as another one of them approached. He had time to load one single bullet into the chamber, spinning it closed. He fired once. _Click_. No bullet, the creature approached more. _Click Click Click BANG! _ The creature roared as hot blood oozed out of it's chest, falling down to it's knees. The Troll looked up at Musashi, roaring as our hero kicked it's chin. The poor thing fell onto it's back, attempting to get up in the few seconds that the lad used to retrieve his Katana. He lunged the sharp steel into the chest of the creature, just above his boot. The troll roared in pain, until Musashi's upward slice tore apart it's already lacking vocal cords.

"You dumb fucks greet everyone that way? That your ideas of hospitality? Well _fuck_, you need a new board of tourism. I'll take you all to _fucking hell_." Kuros roared, a challenge to the oncoming monsters. He knew that fighting them there, with the bodies of their friends piling up, would be suicide, so he decided to run for a bit. He sheathed his Katana, placing bullets into his revolver as he went. One, two, three, four, _BANG_, forced it closed for a moment to shoot one closing in, four five six. Locked and loaded. He turned back, seeing several of the trolls following close behind him. They felt the wrath of Kuros in short order. One to the side of a troll's leg, knocking him down, another to that same Troll's shoulder, ripping his arm off, three to his buddy's neck. Four hit a third troll directly between his eyes, so filled with stupidity. Kuros allowed a fourth troll to get in close to him, only them shooting the creature directly above the knee, bringing it down. Musashi gleefully stepped onto the wound, pointing his gun directly at the creature's temple. Six went right into it's ugly brains. Blood and gore spilled all over the Bloodthirsty Dove's face.

It was only then that Musashi noticed the truly endless horde behind those. It seemed to stretch on to eternity, a field of light blue on the snow. This was a truly bad situation...Musashi lived for bad situations. He was going to make his stand somewhere...but not there, amongst the trees. He began running again, his lithe form outrunning the thuggish trolls. His gun soon found itself reloaded, it's counterpart pulled out, polished and pretty for just such situations. Our gruesome hero jumped over an embankment, finding himself in a clearing, snow on the ground. The place was surrounded by a creek. The trolls all had to jump, too. His dark jacket was heavy with the seawater, starkly cold as snow fell all around from the blizzard. Visibility was getting poor. He could hear the creatures though, hear their snarls and their taunts in their own language, if it could even be called that. He fired one bullet, hearing a troll hit the ground with a _thud _soon after. Another one was soon upon him. Musashi did the most logical thing, butting the creature on the nose with one of his revolvers, before a bullet from the other one found a place within the creature's brain. He fired a bullet at a random direction, hearing a high pitched wail from one of the creatures, followed by the sound of it hitting the water around the place. "Come on, ALL OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! Please, I'm _begging_ you pissant motherfuckers here! All of you! Come on! Try your _fucking best_ to kill me! I DARE you!" All the while firing off shots wildly. He heard more screams with each shot. Soon, he was out. The revolvers found themselves holstered. Musashi didn't often prefer to go in close...but this would be a fun opportunity to do just that. Over the course of this battle, our hero's features had almost taken on a canine air to them, as if he were a hungering dog, receiving a fix of the one thing he desired the most, deep down...battle. Pure, unadulterated battle. Two of the creatures tried to perform a pincer attack on him, one from each side. Our white haired fiend, thrust his blade through the stomach of the troll, forcing the steel farther in, until he was right next to the tall creature. He jumped up, headbutting him with such force that the creature was knocked out. He twisted the blade sideways, the sword slicing it's way out of the troll's gullet, before finding itself embedded in the side of the other one. In Musashi's head, a guitar ballad was playing, he was grunting, this was amazing...this was what he _lived_ for! He pulled the blade out, aiming higher. He sliced clean through the creature's left arm, dismembering a limb of another monstrosity. A slap to the side of the skull soon brought him to his senses, from another of the creatures behind him. He crawled back, his Katana held in front of him as the blizzard above him intensified once more. No less than twenty of the creatures surrounded him on all sides. "Come on, you motherfucking sons of cocksucking whores, take me down, TAKE ME DOWN!" Musashi roared.

"Nice attitude you got there, boy." a deep, rolling voice said. What seemed like a crimson cloud in the white appeared out of nowhere, a rather short cloud, and sliced several of the creatures apart in a few fell swoops. "Let 'em kill you if they can! You only face reality in the face of death!" the warrior screamed, his own sword covered in blood from many enemies. Musashi could see this man sported a healthy beard, and he seemed to be a full foot shorter than him. A dwarf! This was...certainly an odd day. "But these trolls ain't going to be enough to give us ultimate enlightenment...but we could hope...in vain, couldn't we?" the dwarf said with a cocky smile on his face. The sword was a simple hand-and-a-half one...but something was so beautiful about the blade. Even in the heat of battle, Musashi could notice that. Intricate blue writings were inlaid on the thing, for starters. On the dwarf's back was a starkly unintricate battleaxe. Musashi and this warrior fought back to back for some time, taking down scores of the best. The two roared challenges to one another, did everything short of keeping count...and nothing could even _scratch_ them. The blood of the north ran through them both that day, they, they, they...

_Present Day_

"Why are you giving me that look, lady?" Richard asked, with some amount of a sneer in his voice, amongst the genuine wonder.

"That...isn't what happens. You _know_ that isn't what happened. Valkyrion doesn't have a large enough population of Ice Trolls, I'd expect you'd know that, considering that they are your main source of competition in the North."  
"I wouldn't say they were my _main_ competition. I hear Henri gives your grunt's _balls_ quite the good squeeze every time they try and bully him on Vena Litre."

This angered the interrogator a great deal, but she squeezed her fists, closed those pretty eyes, and muttered in the angriest of tones, "Just...tell me what really happened. I don't want the legends, or repeats of what was in the book the Muris wrote to make their son's friend look heroic.

Musashi landed on the island of Valkyrion, cursing his luck at the weather. "This shit's never easy, I swear." he said in his thickly accented voice. He shivered, his jacket failing to provide any means of warmth. He rubbed his bare palms together to gain some form of heat...he needed anything. Shelter from the blizzard...warmth...he needed those things. He quickly broke out into a jog, running into the thick forests of Valkyrion, snow hitting his face from all directions. To be honest, he couldn't see more than three or so feet in front of him. He swatted at thin air, only occasionally hitting a tree. But...up ahead...darkness! He ran towards that darkness, finding himself in a cave. Our boy quickly reached into his pockets, pulling out the equivalent of a zippo lighter and striking it up. It illuminated the cave, he found it quite sparse...so he sat down for a spell. "Shit..." he muttered, foulmouthed as always. He pulled out a cigar, lighting it up and taking a draft off of the sweet cancer. The cherry gave him enough light to see. The cigars still made him cough, as used to them as he was, after smoking them for nearly a year now. He lay his head against the rock wall...uncomfortable as always. Musashi stayed like this for about half an hour. Footsteps were heard off in the distance...loud ones. Soon, no less than an Ice Troll walked into the cave...this creature weighing in at around seven hundred pounds and standing ten feet tall. Rare creatures on the island of Valkyrion, the living vestiges of the mythology of the people that lived there.

Musashi froze, his cigar having just gone out. He needed to get out of the cave...and he had the feeling that the creature wouldn't die from the normal routine of "shoot you in the head" he did with everyone. He really only had one option. Run. And run he did, right past the creature, drawing the obvious roar of anger. That little human-creature had defiled _it's_ cave, and the little human-creature would pay! Our boy looked back, this distracting him from the ground around him just long enough for him to trip over a bump in the ground, tumbling into a creak. The creature soon caught up with the youth, roaring at him. Spittle landed all over his clothes, as the boy drew a revolver, firing up at the troll. He jumped back, emptying all six bullets into the big damned thing. The worst part? It wasn't even _phased_. Musashi quickly jumped back, reloading his revolver, drawing the other one in short order. He fired four bullets, directly into the creature's chest. Before Musashi's very eyes, the bulletwounds seemed to regenerate at a lightning rate, the troll laughing, as if the puny bullets tickled it greatly.

The creature jumped down after Musashi, lumbering and groaning in it's own language, probably muttering some threat, or challenge. Our hero was looking around, looking for any way he could get out of this without transforming...and, well, there didn't seem to be one. He was surrounded by rock walls on all sides, effectively backing himself into a corner. It was fight, and the creature was baring down upon Musashi. No choice at all, really...so he fired more bullets, two to be precise. He now had half of his shots left in both revolvers. He aimed for the head now, but the creature was smart enough to cover itself with it's arm, those wounds quickly regenerating.

"No, no, no...you don't _shoot_ Trolls, white-hair, that only pisses 'em off." a voice said. Like greased lightning, a small, dwarfish figure leaped onto the back of the creature, slicing at several points along it's arms with a hand-and-a-half sword, the creature roaring in pain, "You open up lots of wounds, _lots of 'em_, so the regeneration is spread out more." and the dwarf did just that, opening as many small cuts as he could on the large creature, riding on it's back and laughing to the heavens. "And then, while it's distracted, you do _this!_" the dwarf said, laughing as he wrapped his legs around the creature's neck, the short man's stout arms reaching for an eye. He grunted heavily, roaring as he used all of his might to rip the eye out of the troll, forcing himself around to the other side, looking the ugly creature in the other eye, punching the large troll in it's remaining eye. After he had effectively blinded the creature, he reached both hands into it's skulls, grabbing to large chunks from it's brain and pulling back with a hefty "_RARGH!_" The stout man did a backflip, the brain chunks still in his hands, as the creature fell to the ground, dead. "So, you're a short, little blighter out in the middle of the worst storm I've ever seen...what the hell're you doing, kid?" he asked, as if he _hadn't_ just brutally killed an Ice Troll.

"I was...shit...I don't _know._" Musashi said. For one time in his life, he was at a loss for words.

"No matter...the name's Odin Thunderbeard, at your service. Yep, same Odin Thunderbeard that's leading a band of Marauders up n' down the coast...the one and only."

"Raiders...so you'll be leaving this island soon?" Musashi asked, genuine curiosity in his questioning.

"Yeah, why? Don't wanna stay and enjoy some more good Valkyrion hospitality? Heh...alright...I could use some outside help."

"Just like that?"

"What? You expected me to _not_ agree to some free help? Just help me and my boys raid for a few, and we'll drop you off at port in Venalitre while we trade, how's that sound?"  
"It sounds fuckin' terrific."

_Present Day_

"But...Odin Thunder-"

"Yeah, I had the same reaction lady. I've _met _him, just recently. And the son of one of his crewmen. He's just like that in person. He's a bloodthirsty little pugger."

"That...he...was."

_To be continued..._

_We come from the land of the Ice and Snow_

_With the Midnight Sun,_

_Where the hotsprings flow._


	8. Flight of the Bumblebee

Hellbound

Session VIII

Flight of the Bumblebee

Winter in Valkyrion was harsh, as Musashi had learned mere seconds after flying near the island. He looked at his short escort, leading him back towards the shore without a word. The man seemed to be inviting death, wearing only the bare minimum amount of furs needed to stave off the cold of the place. Odin Thunderbeard...our hero had heard that name somewhere before. Out of all four of the Blue seas, the North Blue was the only one with a large amount of Pirates still sailing the seas, mainly due to the fact that the government simply _could not_ contain Valkyrion and it's children. The massive island-country had built it's reputation on pirating, since even before the days of Gold Roger, and that meant they knew what they were doing. Remembering all of that, it seemed like Musashi _had_ paid a fair amount of attention to his schoolteacher, back on Akebono. The pair of short folk (for, if you don't remember, reader, Musashi wasn't much taller than Odin,) finally cleared the tree line, finding themselves in front of a fairly large ship, with a large group of men going about, doing work on and around the ship. Each one of them looked more than capable of standing their ground against Musashi. A few even looked capable of besting him, Odin included. "_The Banshee's Wail_, ain't she a beaut?" the dwarf remarked in a happy, boastful tone. It was clear he was quite proud of the ship, and the men all turned to give their captain various signs of respect. "Alright, boys, I went troll huntin...and who did I find getting his arse handed to him by the troll that they said was around here if not an outsider. Dressed up like some prettyboy middle schooler from those' civilized' places, no less!"

"At least I'm only short in _one_ way, you tiny pile of monkeyshit." our hero bit right back with, causing a fair amount of the men to laugh merrily. They were the joking sort, that was nice.

"And the prettyboy has a sense of humor 'bout him, that's good. I'd say I was afraid of you being one of the pompous types, but me and fear have a long distance relationship, you see?" the dwarf said, punching our white haired hero lightly on the shoulder, a friendly gesture. "We'll get ya back to your 'civilized' lands, oh yes we will...but first, yer gonna have to prove your worth. How'd ya like to be considered a man by _Valkyrion_ standards at yer age? Ya don't look like you're halfway through your second decade, boy-o." Musashi hated being young, hated the lack of respect people gave him...until he shot them in the face for laughing at what he had to say.

"I could think of _worse_ things I could be doing." he replied, met by many an odd look from the people around him, "I mean, fuck, my choices are staying on this crazy fucking island, or sailing with a gang of clowns dressed up with Marauders, killing a few assholes who had it coming, and promptly getting back on track...I've got things to do, people to see. And, I can become a man by the _standards_ of those clowns to boot? Not much of a choice..._especially since I can't fly in this weather. Cold...I'd need to be trained in how to fly in cold weather._" his accented voice seemed to raise a few eyebrow from the more traveled of the crew.

"Well, we got us a ballsy kid here, guys. I say our first order of business would be to get the little motormouth into some more...fitting clothing. The whole schoolboy thing won't cut it where we're going, kid. Ya might catch an arrow to the neck, or something. Get to the ship armory, Vron'll get ya all sorted out." Our hero nodded, running before jumping and grabbing a rope that was hanging from the side of the ship. He pulled himself up, finding himself on the deck From here, he could tell what he already knew, that the ship was made from rather high quality material, probably bought after much pillaging. Although Odin hadn't mentioned what exactly he'd have to do, the fact of who they were, and that he was being ordered to don armor implied that they weren't going to be selling people cookies or anything like that. Our hero managed to navigate through the ship's levels quite easily, to be honest. He hadn't been on many ships in his time, between flying and the much more commonplace Sea Train transportation, but there were signs conveniently placed leading him to various areas of the ship, although he followed his route to the armory. He eventually knocked on the door that was labeled 'armory', and a surprisingly ungruff voiced said, muffled through the door, "Come in."

Our hero stepped inside, seeing a man who didn't look far into his twenties, with a small, unkept brown beard that promised to grow into the beard of a proper Valkyrion man one day. He looked Musashi up and down, opening his mouth to ask him a question. Before he could begin, our boy spoke up, saying "Odin saved me from some big thing he called a troll...sent me here to get properly armed for some rite of passage or some shit. I gues-"

"Sit down, I'll try and fish something up for a pipsqueak." Musashi felt his hands ball into a fist, but simply took his seat, waiting for the man to look through the racks of armor.

"Looks to me that you've got weapons covered...what type of armor would you _like?_"

"I dunno, I fight in a way that relies on...speed, you know? I charge in with my sword in one hand, gun in the other, and outmaneuver the other guy. If it'd make any difference, I'd prefer to not get hit."

Vron let out a hearty bit of laughter, drawing out a light set of what appeared to be chainmail, adorned with fur so that it had _some_ style to it...you could definitely tell that the piece was of Valkyrion make. Musashi looked it over as the older man spoke, "Don't we all? This will do you well just in case you manage to run into someone a little faster than you. Remember, there's always someone better out there."

The boy looked up at him, finding this opportunity for private conversation to be the perfect time to ask a question that had been eating at him, "What's Odin's deal? He seems gung-fucking-ho about charging headlong at fights. And I don't think it would bother him too much if he ended up biting the bucket, you know? I've never met anyone like that before."

"There's not a man like Odin Thunderbeard...probably because he's a dwarf. A real life dwarf, all of the Thunderbeards are. Your marine force has given him a nickname, you know, 'Blood Knight'. He can't get enough of combat, the crazy bastard, and we all love him for that. He raised up the meanest, toughest crew of Valkyrion Raiders that the world has seen in five generations, and I'm proud he accepted me onto his crew. You should be happy that he took such a liking to you and didn't decide to attack you after the troll went down."

"Maybe you're right..."

It was sometime later that Musashi walked out onto the deck again, many men turning to get a peek at the Valkyrion-ized Kuros. His sword was sheathed at his side, not slung on his back like normal. His gunbelts were also hoisted at his side, less ammo than usual on his person due to a distinct lack of pockets. The fur also managed to keep him warm, despite his chainmail sleeve stopping just above his elbows. "Ho Ho, look who's looking like the little Valkyrion warrior?" Odin asked, his voice merry. "He'll look right and proper for a bloodlettin!" he continued, causing the rest of the men to cheer, "That's how you'll prove yourself, after all...we're gonna find a ship to raid, and you and me will be leadin' the charge of the boarding party...this little troll hunt was me having a little rest and relaxation before we got down to business for today. But now...VALKYRIONS! WE SAIL!"

_Several Hours Later_...

It had been a boring few hours, really, with Musashi alert on the upper deck, along with the others that would be the first to board whatever enemy ship they found. But, off in the distance, sails could finally, finally be seen. The colors of merchants, at that! "Seems like we caught a few saints sailin' for that island that had itself a little fire recently! Let's show 'em the Valkyrion idea of doing some good!" Odin roared, the sails of the _Banshee's Wail_ rolling down fully now, the wind picking up behind them. They sailed like a bat out of hell on the waves, the roar of the cold see below washed out by the battlecries of the Valkyrions. Musashi joined in, drawing his sword and jumping up onto the mast, a roar from deep within his gut sounding from within him. Whether the men on that ship opposing them had been seasoned marines, or the merchants that they _were_, they would know _dread_ now. The ship was alongside their's quickly. This was followed by an odd spectacle from Musashi's new co-workers. Three of the older ones jumped up onto the railing, not even afraid of the water below, and proceeded to drop their loose-fitting pants. The merchants found themselves getting a nice view of buttocks. "Give 'em the Valkyrion Shimmy boys, that's right!" Odin roared, allowing the men on the other ship to see him. There didn't seem to be many fighters amongst the men on the deck of the other ship, but that didn't mean they'd get it easy. The ships eventually kept their pacing even, the _Wail_ drawing in close to her pray. Odin jumped up onto the deck, Musashi following suit. A wail, seemingly too high pitched for him, came from deep within Odin's throat. There was glee in this wail, a happiness that he would get to fight, to have another opportunity to dance with death, "We come from the land of the ice and snow, with the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow!" he bellowed, beckoning for Musashi to jump. The pair jumped onto the other ship, their weapons drawn. More warriors followed suit, and both Musashi and the dwarf started their path of butchery, slaughtering everyone in their way.

The few that bothered to even raise arms to defend themselves only seemed to inspire an even greater ferocity within Odin. "The hammer of the gods shall drive our ships to new lands, you intruders within _our_ seas, we'll fight the hordes, sing and cry...Valhalla, I'm coming!" Odin continued to roar. There was something inspiring about him, as he cleaved the men manning the ship in two. Not even a challenge. Musashi also shed quite a fair amount of blood, killing in cold blood. Some of them tried to raise their arms in fear, but they were merely met by his katana slicing through their arms, followed by a nice decapitation. "Ya don't even _try_ and defend yourselves, ya sissies? Give this son of Valkyrion a CHALLENGE! I want to dance with _death_, and all ya got to offer me is some cannon fodder! Schoolboy, help me check out the lower deck, maybe there's a challenge down there." and so, the pair of them kicked in the door leading below deck, Musashi and Odin outright competing to get through the doorway first. It was...mostly clear, actually, except for a few...cats. Odin stomped them with his boots. "I _hate cats!_" he roared at the top of his lungs. Somewhere, a would-be fangirl cried at the thought of a fictitious dwarf stepping on a fictitious animal, and instantly declared her hatred of Odin. The pair eventually busted in on the captain of the ship, clutching a flintlock revolver, no match for Musashi's more advanced model. He pointed his gun right at Odin's forehead, and time seemed to slow down for our dear boy.

He saw an opportunity for a shot, like he was marking the area where he would hit in his mind ahead of time. Like greased lightning, he drew and fired a bullet, directly into the brain of the captain. Gray matter splattered all over the pair, and a key rolled out of his pocket. "I wonder what this goes too?" Musashi asked, picking it up.

"I'd wager that chest over there." Odin replied, pointing to a large chest behind the captain's desk. Musashi moved in towards it, inserting the key and slowly turning. Inside the chest were enough golden coins to keep Odin's entire crew supplied for quite a while. "...Looks like we just hit the jackpot, pipsqueak. Help me haul this up..." and both of them pitched in to carry the chest back up top, the pair jumping ship with the thing in between them. After the chest was sat down, Odin looked down at the water. The dead were being piled into the rafts along the sides of the craft, and lowered into the water. From there, arrows were fired, burning their bodies, the boats soon slipping beneath the waves. "The burial of the dead...we butchered 'em and took their stuff...the least we can do is, well, set them on fire...not like any of them were still alive, I think."

But, little known to Odin, something gargantuan was stirring within the depths below. Something that noticed the ruffle of movement with it's large, pale green eyes. Something that hungered a hunger that simply could not be sated. Something larger than even Richard's ego...a behemoth of the seas...a North Blue Kraken. The creature raced towards the surface, swallowing the ship that the raiders had just looted whole, it's maw standing several stories above the _Banshee's Wail_. "Kraken! We've got a Kraken!" quite a few of the men roared, not panicking...simply excited.

"I _knew_ there was a reason I got outta bed this morning...let's draw that thing up again...ima kill it from the inside out!" Odin boasted, licking his lips in anticipation of the fight that was to come, inside the beast, before Musashi could even say what anyone would say, Odin spoke directly to him, "I wish we had gotten to raid a vessel that had a competent guard on it so I coulda showed you how I fight against _worthy_ opponents...but I guess...I'll see ya some other time, kid. My men'll see you to a port...Venalitre...you probably know the place." And it was at that moment that the Kraken surfaced again, very angry. Very hungry. "Come and get me, you slack jawed, over sized fish! My name's Odin Thunderbeard and I'm gonna _kick. Your. Ass." _he roared, jumping from the side of the ship to the Kraken's face, stabbing his sword into the side. The creature barely noticed more than a prick, but it was still enough to make it lean back, causing more of it's long neck to be exposed. Odin used his sword like a climbing tool, scaling the beast until he reached an eyeball, at least twenty times his size. He jumped straight into it as the creature lunged from side to side, tearing the eye apart, before getting tossed high into the air by the beast. If Musashi was eagle-eyed, he would have been able to see a smile the size of a dwarf planet on Odin's face as the creature opened up it's maw, showing row after row of razor sharp teeth three times the size of a man. Odin fell into it willingly, and the creature retreated beneath the waves to wherever dark depth it lurked.

Every raider there took off their helms, giving a solemn moment of prayer and silence for their captain, although no man there doubted their captain still lived. "Captain sure liked you, white hair...now let's get you to a port before that Kraken comes back." the unmentioned beforehand first mate said. He was ready, deep down, to get the boy off of the ship, he seemed to bring death with him.

To be continued...


End file.
